


The Morning After the Night Before

by angelsaves



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Inspired by Twitter, M/M, Post-Screw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 10:20:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3064226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsaves/pseuds/angelsaves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on Bitty's Twitter recounting of Shitty and Jack's conversation the morning after Winter Screw -- the first few lines of dialogue come directly from the Twitter. An idea of what might have gone on during and after that conversation (hint: sex).</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Morning After the Night Before

Jack gets home from Screw at a respectable hour, gets a decent amount of sleep, and wakes up at his usual time. This means that he's awake and working on his reading when Shitty barges into his room, but he's not expecting it. He never is.

"DEETS," Shitty demands. "DEETS DEETS DEETS." He's not wearing any clothes.

"I have no deets, man," Jack says, marking his place and setting the book down carefully.

"Don't give me any of that dumbass 'Zimmermanns don't kiss and tell' bullshit," Shitty says, sprawling on Jack's bed and half on Jack himself.

"Get out," Jack says, "OF MY BED." It's mostly a formality. He knows Shitty has no intention of going anywhere.

"No one will do this with you in the NHL," Shitty informs him, winding his arms around Jack like an octopus. Jack slaps at him halfheartedly. "Shhhh," Shitty says, "don't fight -- ow ow ow!" Jack withdraws his fingers from the soft spots under Shitty's ribs, satisfied. "Why do you resist my snuggles?"

Jack just shakes his head, and nudges Shitty's arm into a more comfortable position.

"Anyway, you have not distracted me from my mission with your vicious poking, Zimmermann," Shitty says. "I demand deets!"

"I told you --" Jack starts to say.

"You didn't even kiss her goodnight?" Shitty sounds horrified. "I thought you were a Canadian gentleman!"

"I did kiss her," he admits.

"And? Were there fireworks? Singing choirs of angels?" Shitty head-butts Jack's arm, like this will encourage him to share.

Maybe it does. "It was a perfectly good kiss," Jack says. "A little tongue, not too much."

"Like how much?"

"I don't know, like -- enough?"

"Show me!" Shitty demands, and it's probably a sign that his derangement is contagious, because instead of arguing, Jack threads his fingers in Shitty's flow and shows him how he kissed his date.

"That was pretty good, man," Shitty says, when Jack lets go of him. "Not bad for a girl you're not planning on seeing again."

"Hey," Jack says.

"Well, you're not," Shitty says. "Now, me, I'm leaving my options open with Kayla, so I kissed her more like this."

Before Jack can brace himself, Shitty's kissing him with -- he can admit it to himself -- a lot more passion. He kind of feels like swooning, with Shitty's hand on the back of his neck and Shitty's mustache tickling his nose and -- Shitty.

Shitty rolls them over so he's braced over Jack. They're both breathing hard, enough so that their chests almost touch every time they inhale. "You didn't have a bed at Screw," Jack says inanely.

"No," Shitty says. He's looking down at Jack sort of carefully, and Jack doesn't want him to be careful. 

"You do now," Jack says, and pulls Shitty down to kiss him again. Shitty's even more enthusiastic this time, nipping gently at Jack's lips, moving down to press sloppy kisses to the underside of his jaw and his neck and his chest.

"You're wearing too much clothing," Shitty says, lifting his head from Jack's abs. "Like, way too much."

"I'm just wearing boxers," Jack points out. He doesn't even have socks on.

"Like I said," Shitty says, and grins at him. Jack can't help but smile back. "Can I help you out with that?"

"Yeah," Jack says. "Shitty --"

"I've got you," Shitty says. He eases the waistband of Jack's boxers over his erection, then the rest of the way off, and flings them God-knows-where. "Can I blow you?"

"Has anybody ever said no to that, like, ever?" Jack asks, dropping his head back on the pillow.

"Consent is paramount," Shitty says. "But no, not in my experience."

"Fair enough," Jack says. "You have my consent, or whatever."

Shitty raises his eyebrows. "Or whatever?"

"What, you want me to say please?" Jack arches his hips up towards Shitty's face, but he dodges away. "I'll say it in French, too."

"Go for it," Shitty says, still hovering over -- but not touching -- Jack's cock, so Jack rolls his eyes.

" _Suce ma bite,_ " he says in his best hockey-robot monotone, " _s'il te plaît._ "

"Well, okay," Shitty says, and sucks the head of Jack's cock into his mouth.

"Oh, _fuck_ ," Jack says, holding his hips down to the bed with sheer force of will. Shitty takes him deeper, excruciatingly slowly, and wraps his hand around the base. "Shits, fuck!"

It's not like this is the first time someone's sucked him off. It's not even the first time a guy has blown him -- he and Parse did just about everything two guys could do -- but this is different. _Shitty_ is different. They don't have anything to prove.

Jack closes his eyes and loses himself in the feeling of Shitty's hot, wet mouth. Just in time, he realizes he's going to come, and tugs on Shitty's hair to pull him off. "Come on," he says.

"Okay," Shitty says, rolling his eyes, like this is an imposition or something. He wraps his hand tighter around Jack's cock and jerks him off the rest of the way, watching his face.

It's overwhelming. Jack keeps his eyes open, clenches his teeth, and comes all over his chest and Shitty's hand.

"God, you Adonis motherfucker," Shitty says admiringly. "That was awesome."

"You were awesome," Jack says, sitting up. "Let me -- I want to --"

"Bossy fuck." Shitty crawls up Jack's body and sits in his lap. "Jerk me off, okay? Like this." He snuggles flush against Jack and puts Jack's hand where he wants it, tight around his cock. "Yeah, just like that."

Shitty throws his head back when Jack gets more adventurous, running his thumb over the crown, rubbing the soft skin behind Shitty's balls, and Jack kisses the side of his neck.

"Jesus Christ, Jack," Shitty says, half breath, and he comes in Jack's arms. It's kind of amazing.

"So," Jack says, once they're lying down, tangled together in their grossness, "is that what you do with people you want to see again?"

"It's what I do with people I want to see every day," Shitty says, and burrows his head under Jack's chin.

Jack can live with that.


End file.
